Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1887-05-13


married to Hiram Yorke, and as
happy as most folks. Hiram amt
perfection, to lie SUR, but Abe was
pretty partial to old rye, too, or
he'd never have drove bis old horse
over Kings Cross Cliff instead o.
round it. And l reckon things
al'ays happens for the best, take
one year with another" contented.
" added the stout matron, as she
stirred a saucepanful of onions with
a ponderous tin spoon, while Mary
Folyott WINGED at the unpalatable
parallel.
What was there in common be-
tween handsome Hugh Derby aud
the luckless hero who, once on q
time, peddled tin and drank too
much
The mullins were baked, the eggs
tried to the exact shade OF golden
brown, and the breakfast for "the
gentleman in Number Nineteen
safely OF her mind, when Mary
Folyott stole down to the grave
yard once more, with a basket of de-
llcious white rhododendrons, which
a little colored girl had just brought
her from the woods.
81 done knowed yo' loved white
posies, missee," said Cora Anne,
who was IN Miss FolyOtt's class at
Sunday school, $50 1 done brung
yo' desc ysr"
1t was golden noontide now; the
clusters of sweet fern exhaling aro-
matte scents; the COWS standing in
the shadow of hazel Copses; the
ocean sparkling like a plain OF blue
diamonds.
The task of decorating the graves
for which Kings Cross usually
turned out with a band, a covered
wagon, and a concourse of strag'
Cling villagers-would not com.
mence until three o'clock.
"They shall see that he has not
been forgotten" said Mary, as she
toiled along under the bowery sp'
pie branches, and past the ripping
music of the little brook. "Oh,
Hugh-my Hugh-if only l could
recall one short hour Of the pasrP
She strewed the white rhododen'
drons on the green sod, as the words
escaped involuntarily from her lips.
"Oh, Hugh dear Hugh-if /
could only speak to you once
again =" she uttered, aloud.
"speak, then, dearest Mary My
Mary, if I were indeed dead and In
heaven, I think 1 could not be hap
pier than am now"
The basket of rhododeudrons fell
to the ground. Mary Folyott would
have fallen, too, If she had not
been caught in a pair of strong
arms.
"Darling Mary, do not turn 80
white" pleaded her lover. 81 am
not a ghost, no phantom l am
Hugh Derby's self, alive and we'll,
come back to lag my heart at your
feet, and claim the loye that IS
so precious to me. IL isn't 90 i'm
possible as you think. Pm not
dead, and / never have been dead.
But the poor fellow who had the
bed next to mine in the Accident
Ward of the st. Monica's Hospital,
died the night they brought him in,
and the cards at our bed.heads got
accidentally changed. l was No.
4, and when my number was affix-
ed to another bed, / lost my iden-
tity at once. We are not Smith or
Brown in hospital, Mary-we are
only Six or -Four, as the case may
be. SO when poor Maurice Blen-
helm died, in the bed labelled ~
they turned to their books and
made out a burial certificate for
Hugh Derby, one Of the victims of
the railroad accident. And before
l recovered from the brain fever
that followed on the blow | re-
ceived from the end of the car seat
when fell they had me duly buried
with all the honors of book and
bill. l couldn't make 'em believe
that ] was Hugh Derby, and not
Maurice Blenheim, and so l left of
trying. And, after all, what did it
matter much? What charm has
life lett for mel"
"But, Hugh, 1 loved you"
"But, Mary, did not know it !;
and so I dawdIed away the sun
shiny hours on those sweet Flori'
dian shores, thinking how strange
il felt to be wandering alone, like
a disembodied spirit, without any
identity at all, and halt disposed to
wonder for what especial use God
had given me back my life, when
ell Of a sudden the strong desire
came upon me to travel northward
to Kings Cross-to look upon my
own grave. Mary, l believe to
heaven it was your love attracting
me like an invisible magnet. Sweet
heart, Won have brought me back
TO you and now never shall 20
away without you"
"I-I don't want you top whis-
pered Mary FOlyOtt, her soft cheeks
suffused with bushes, her eyes shin
ing like wet stars. "Oh, Hugh |
am so very, very happy. l haven't
deserved this, Hugh, but l will
never be silly or cspricious agaln."
"Maryl Nary screamed the
shrill, falsetto voice of Mrs. Yorke'
"Why, what has become OF the
childf She's here, and there and